I think I've fallen for you
by Kittycait101
Summary: It's three years since Sherlock jumped. John is still grieving and in denial that he was fake. John returns to Baker Street to be met with a familiar face. I do not own any of these characters as much as I'd love to. These are in no way mine. Rated T for language and johnlock fluff. Please feel free to leave any reviews, they are more than welcome. ;D Xx kittycait101
1. So alone

John closed he door silently behind him, feeling the cold air rush through to streets of London and sting his eyes. It was late, around 8 at night and in the winter. The roads dampened by rain and the drunken groups of young parties gathered laughing and shouting on the streets. John sighed heavily and continued down the winding roads of London. He stopped at the corner of Baker Street staring at the red and white canopy of Speedy's cafe.

"Shit. I can't do this."John mumbled to himself.

He continued to walk in the direction of the cafe. Then he stopped. There it was, the black door of 221b Baker Street. His hand lingered on the doorway and his other fumbled for the key in his pocket. It fit easily but his hand wouldn't turn. Instead, he pressed his forehead against the door, wishing he heard the sweet melody of sherlocks violin playing through the walls. Silence. The door clicked open and he was immediately greeted by Mrs Hudson closing her arms around him. He stumbled back in surprise.

"John dear, does this mean you're staying?" She smiled.

"No, I don't think I can. Not right now. How've you been?"

She released her grip from his shoulders and gave a sympathetic look.

"I'm fine dear, do you want tea?"

"Yes, please."

The landlady glimpsed down at John's hand, which clutched a walking stick tightly.

"Oh, dear. "

"I'm ok."

"Come on, sit yourself down."

He followed her up the stairs silently.

"Who's been paying for the flat? It hasn't been touched"

"Oh, Mycroft. Never told me why of course, he was always so secretive."

"Yes, Well, he is the British government."

"I'll get you that cuppa dear. "

"Yes, thank you."

John's hands were trembling noticeably, after drinking his tea he journeyed to his old room which had been cleaned out entirely. Leaving an empty shell of the room it used to be. He went back downstairs and lay his bag on sherlocks bed, a tear rolling down his cheek. His hands smoothed the wrinkles on the bed.

"I miss you sherlock."


	2. The good old fashioned villain

John woke suddenly to find himself on sherlocks bed. The contents of his bag were scattered across the floor. He turned on his side to view the clock. 6:45. In truth, it was probably the longest he had slept in a long time. He shuffled sleepily across the room and through the door.

It was a cool morning on Baker Street. The pavements were lined with a thin layer of ice and the breeze was bitter cold. John started to walk down the street, noticing a long black car trailing behind him. He gave a sigh, it was only a matter of time before Mycroft would enquire about his stay at Baker Street. Unsurprisingly the car door opened, revealing a young woman with blonde hair gazing up at him. Clearly Mycroft had outgrown his use for Anthea since his time way from Baker Street, she was probably too busy texting to care anyway.

"Let me guess, if I don't get in the car I get threatened."

The girl gave a smirk and gestured to the empty seat. Sighing, john climbed into the car, not even attempting to ask where they were going. The girl stared out of the window silently, more preferable then the constant clicking of a mobile.

The car stopped outside a small warehouse. 'well, this is original.' Watson got out of the car. The car park was empty and old and a dark figure stood in the distance. He started to walk over.

"Long time, no see Mycroft. You could of just asked you know?"

He didn't respond.

"Mycro-"

A gun clicked behind him, forcing him to stop. A large crack at the back of his head sent him falling to the ground, hitting his head on the concrete floor.

"Always was so touchingly loyal...And so profoundly obvious."

The dark haired man stood towering over Watson.

"...You? You...were dead..." John stuttered, the blood trickling down his face. He tried to push himself off the floor but collapsed again.

"Oh, Johnny boy. So predictable. Don't try and be the hero now, the fun is just getting started!"


	3. Blinking red lights

***three years earlier***

**John stood in the large room, the flashing cameras of the media almost blinding him.**

**"To whoever knew Sherlock Holmes, you will know he was the most intelligent, brilliant man you'll ever of met. He could look at you and see your life in seconds, know your feelings before you do yourself and no one can tell me he was a fraud."**

**The corner of his eyes filled with tears, he managed to wipe them away, still being blinded by the bright flashes of camera's.**

***now***

John woke up with a pounding head. The dried blood left half his face stained red. His arms stretched up above his head and chained at the wrists tightly, cutting into his skin. He struggled against his binds, causing blood to run down his arms. His eyes tried to focus on the dimly lit room.

"Oh! I think he's waking up!" Moriarty stood looming in the shadows.

A fair haired man strode toward him, holding an object tightly grasped in his hand. It glinted in the light briefly and john could just see the serrated edge of the knife. He struggled to break free as it was raised to his cheek, cutting the makeshift gag. The knife rested against his cheek drawing a thin line of blood.

"Now doctor Watson, you have a little job. If you play anything there'll be consequences. Do you understand?" Moriarty asked.

John gave a nod in response, the energy drained out of him.

"Good!"

A small blinking red light flashed on. Moriarty holding a hand held camera pointing at his face.

"Hello! Today, we're going to tell a story!...Once apon a time, there was a man who used to get very bored, until one day, an ex-soldier came home from fighting in a terrible war. They moved in together and became the best of friends. Happily eve- no, no no. You see, there came a time when the man got bored again, so along came a spider. The spider told him lots of puzzles and riddles and in return, the man had to fall. You see the relevance doctor Watson?"

The camera quickly turned to Watson who had been stripped of his shirt.

"So one day, the spider faked his death in order to kill the man, but the man didn't die did he? No, he left his poor army doctor to cry over his grave while he captured the spiders friends. One by one, they went missing. So the spider decided to take the man's only friend in exchange for exchange for his own."

The fair-haired man standing next to Watson traced the edge of his knife down his front. Causing john to grimace in pain.

"Now Sherlock, I think I've found someone who would be very happy to see you. He talks about you in his sleep you know? How quaint. You release Sebastian Moran and john lives, if you can find him."

The knife rose to the scar on his shoulder, where it plunged into his skin. A burning sensation, followed by sharp, unimaginable pain as the blood trickled heavily down his bare skin. He managed a strangled cry followed by a strained gasp as the knife was removed.

"I recon he has around... 5 hours perhaps. I wouldn't want to take the risk though. Would you?"

Moriarty concluded and stopped the camera.

"John, don't die on me yet. I'd like to see the emotional reunion first."


	4. Lighting the match

_*two days earlier*_

_"You should stay away from him. It's not safe and you know it."_

_"I can't. I can't do this anymore Mycroft."_

_"So you will just turn up on his doorstep after all this time? What do you think his reaction will be? It's been three years Sherlock."_

_"Do you not think I know that? Everyday I have to wake up and knowing that if I returned it would never be the same but I can't stay away."_

_"So it was more than friendship then?"_

_"I don't have friends. Not anymore."_

_Mycroft gave a sigh, knowing full well that he'd just dodged the question completely._

_"We have Moran. After the last of the web has been destroyed you can go back. But I'm warning you sherlock, he won't take it well."_

_Sherlock left. Leaving Mycroft with the bill for the coffees._

_*now*_

Sherlock's phone buzzed. It had been given to him by Mycroft and had only one number: Mycroft.

'You will want to see this, I'm sending Anthea. Be nice and don't do anything stupid. -MH'

'It would be a lot easier if you just told me. -SH'

'Watch it. -MH'

Anthea knocked at the door. It was fast and slightly heavy, the messages from Mycroft indicated it was quite important. After a huge internal debate on whether to open the door or not, he did. Anthea had a frown on her face, she pushed an envelope into his hands and left promptly.

He opened the envelope, It contained a disk which he pushed into his laptop. He started back when the picture of Moriarty stared back at him. He sunk Into his seat, hands steepled under his chin as Moriarty continued to talk.

"I told you I would burn you sherlock, well here's me lighting the match."

The camera turned to face john. Sherlock's heart stopped. John. His John, was being tortured and it was all a game to Moriarty. 5 hours. No, more like three now.

'Release Moran. -SH'

'No Sherlock. -MH'

'You have to. -SH'

'Its not an option. Moran tried to kill you and John. -MH'

'He will die Mycroft. -SH'

'How much do you care about him? -MH'

'You couldn't imagine. -SH'

...

'Moran will be released within the hour. Don't make me regret it Sherlock.- MH'

Sherlock smiled to himself a little, then quickly remembered his situation. He called Lastrade who had found out about his return a little more than a year ago.

"Lestrade, there's no time to explain, I need your help."

"Sherlock? What the hell's happening?"

"Later. I'll text you the address."

"I'm busy, Sherlock. What is it?"

The phone hung up. Lastrade sighed to himself and read the message sherlock had sent him.

'Come at once, it's important. -SH'

followed by an adress at he bottom.

" I'll be back in a bit!" He shouted at no one in particular.

"Where are you going?" Asked Sargent Donovan

"Sherlock."

"Tell the freak you have a job to do, you dont have to run around after him. Yon know that don't you?"

"Shut up Donovan."


	5. Tick, tock goes the clock

Lestrade watched the video, the message had been expected for some time. But John playing the main character In the video was truly horrific. There was a look on johns eyes: fear, pain certainly but something else: doubt. John was doubtful.

"_The bars he's chained to are made of iron, the lighting is almost non existent apart from the rectangle above the wall. It's an old prison cell within around 70 miles judging by the time it would of taken to get there."_ He was talking too fast for the DI to understand but continued anyway.

He searched abandoned prisons fitting the description, his fingers frantically typed on the phone until he threw it against the wall. Still muttering to himself. Presumably in his "mind palace."

"Sherlock, you need to calm down."

**"No!** _2 within 70 mile radius first is open to public, far too many people, he wouldn't run the risk. Second away from traffic, Closed down 6 years ago." He muttered._

"We'll get him back." The DI rested a reassuring hand on the detectives shoulder, guiding him back onto the sofa.

"_53 miles: approximately 48 minutes and 55 seconds at constant speed of 65 miles per hour, armed guards patrolling the area."_

"Sherlock?"

"2 hours, Greg."

"Sherlock, just listen to me. You turn up there, Moriarty's waiting. Then what?"

"It's me he wants. I intend to give it to him."

"That won't stop him from killing John. "

"It's the only option!"

"Sher-"

"I need your car." He held out his hand, his long fingers curling as a gesture to give him what he needed.

Lestrade reluctantly handed over the keys to his car which had been parked neatly at the front of the house.

"Thank you, for...er... Everything." He said, dangling the keys from the palm of his hand.

Lestrade nodded, slightly shocked that Sherlock could show even a little gratitude. Sherlock turned on his heels and exited through the door, coat bellowing after him.

"i'm coming John"


End file.
